Record Time by Beverly Brandt

Author:Beverly Brandt
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group
Published: 2012-04-13T00:00:00+00:00

All of the lights in her house were on when Kylie drove up the back alley to her carport.

She knew that she had turned them all off after she’d come home from work to change into the jeans and sweatshirt she had on now before running back out to do a shift at The Soup Kitchen. Cursing herself for not remembering to set the security alarm, Kylie turned off her headlights and the engine of her car, letting it coast to a stop in the alley. She was certain someone had come into her house the night that Mr. Chips had been injured. The vet had told her the cat’s injuries were most probably the result of being kicked, and there was no way someone could have gotten to her cat if he or she hadn’t come into the house. Quietly setting the parking brake, Kylie clenched her teeth with fury.

If someone was in her house again, she wasn’t going to alert them that she was home. No way. If the person who had hurt Mr. Chips was back, she was going to go in and defend her home and family.

Looking around for something in the car with which to defend herself, Kylie was disappointed to come up empty-handed. She kept her car pretty neat as a rule, and she didn’t think the owner’s manual and registration in the glove compartment could in any way be construed as lethal weapons.

The gravel crunched under her Keds as she cautiously stepped out of the car and crept toward the back door. She wished she’d remembered to bring her cell phone so she could call the police, but she hadn’t been able to find it earlier. And, of course, she’d been running late and hadn’t thought it important enough to spend much time searching for it. She vowed from now on to leave the darn thing in her purse, not just drop it anywhere that seemed convenient at the time.

“Hold on, baby. Mommy’s coming,” she whispered quietly now, hoping Mr. Chips was safely hiding under a bed somewhere. If the intruder had dared to so much as touch a whisker of her cat, she’d … well, she didn’t know what she’d do, but it wouldn’t be nice.

As she neared the steps, Kylie spied the small trowel she’d used to plant flowers in her window boxes. Picking up the garden implement, she held the metal blade out in front of her like a knife and slid open the unlocked back door.

The trowel almost fell out of her stunned grasp when she saw the chaos that had become of her tidy little kitchen. The entire contents of her refrigerator were sitting out on the counter; a dozen eggs sitting in an open carton, at least half of them broken and oozing yellow goo over the gray cardboard; milk dripping down the cupboards; sticks of butter ripped from their neat packaging; frozen chicken breasts thawing in a soggy mess.

Clenching her teeth, Kylie renewed her grip on the garden tool.

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